Article
Comment
Education
5 min read

Why the RE teacher recruitment crisis is a problem

In the week that over a quarter of a million young people sit their GCSE Religious Studies exam, Paul Smalley analyses the crisis in religious education -demand for which is rising.

Paul Smalley is a Senior Lecturer in Religious Education at Edge Hill University and a Local Missional Leader in the Diocese of Liverpool. 

Students sit in a classroom.
Credit: Get Teaching

I could have laughed at Nick Gibb, the Minister of State for Education recently – but unfortunately, I don’t think he was trying to be funny.  What caused my outburst of hilarity was a written answer he had given to a parliamentary question.  The question had been asked by Catherine West, a shadow minister, and was enquiring about what steps the government was taking to ensure that recruitment targets for religious education teachers are met.  As the daughter of a headmaster and a practising Quaker, it seems reasonable that she might take an interest in such matters; she is clearly aware of the recruitment crisis that is threatening the teaching of the subject in schools up and down the country.  This awareness seemed to be lacking in the Minister of State’s response.   

The first part of his answer was to report that the number of teachers remains high. And of course, he is correct – the number of Full Time Equivalent Teachers in England has remained fairly steady at around half a million for the last few years. What he didn’t mention is that there are over a quarter of a million more pupils now than there were five years ago. The pupil to teacher ratios in secondary schools has risen each year since 2013. Every teacher needs to teach more pupils.  Last year the recruitment target for teachers was missed by some way and will be only slightly better this year. 

Gibb’s answer was designed to suggest that there was no problem, nothing to worry about – when in fact there is a crisis. 

But the question was about RE teachers specifically. And again, Nick Gibb chose his answer carefully, choosing the one year (2020/21) in the last ten when the recruitment target for RE teachers was exceeded – the year that the target was substantially reduced.  In 2022/23 the recruitment target was missed by 25 per cent.  On average between 10 and 12 per cent of RE teachers who train leave the profession within five years of training.  This is higher than the average across all subjects. 

Gibb’s answer was designed to suggest that there was no problem, nothing to worry about – when in fact there is a crisis.  Teacher recruitment for all subjects is down 22 per cent from last year. However, RE stands out, being down a third of applicants from the last recruitment cycle.

Students often describe it as the one time in school where they can think independently about the people, events and beliefs in the world around them. 

Why does it matter if there aren’t enough RE teachers? 

Religious Education is the only subject which every state school must provide for all of its pupils.  It has been this way since 1944 – but the subject has changed beyond recognition in that time. 

It is a popular and increasingly important subject for our young people to study.  Over the last five years entries to the GCSE have stood at around an average of 250,000 with entries to the full course GCSE rising by 30 per cent over the last decade. It is a subject which helps young people navigate the complex and dynamic nature of our multi religious, multi secular world. It has never been more important, recognised by wider society as vital for preparing students for life in global Britain.  

Students often describe it as the one time in school where they can think independently about the people, events and beliefs in the world around them. It is a space where ultimate questions are discussed.  Big questions such as: ‘Why do people suffer?’, ‘Is death the end?’, and ‘How should we behave in the world?’.  In an increasingly secular world, young people need a space where they can explore these questions, gain insight into how Christians, members of other faiths and non-religious people respond to these issues and develop their own understanding of their place in the universe. 

I wouldn’t go as far as some in saying that RE is an opportunity to de-indoctrinate young people against a prevailing secularising agenda, but RE is a curricular space where pupils can come to realise, that whatever their own personal background, someone’s belief or worldview, shapes and influences how they engage with and interpret the world around them.  For some people these beliefs are fundamental; there is no place of neutrality on such matters – nobody stands nowhere.  Pete Greig reminds us (in the book How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People) that even those who state that they are not religious will often pray: there is a spiritual side to life, even if people fail to explicitly recognise it.  If children are growing up in non-religious households, school may be the only place where spiritual matters are discussed openly and objectively. 

High school pupils are now three times more likely to be taught RE by someone with no qualification in the subject than, for example, in history. 

Teaching young people is a demanding job, and as someone who has been training people to teach RE in high schools since 2006, I know that teaching RE demands a particular skill-set.  RE is multi-disciplinary, so it requires a teacher who understands how to think like a theologian, and a historian, a philosopher and a social scientist.  It requires academic skills such as ethnography and literary analysis, but also the people skills to act impartially, empathetically and sensitively when discussing important and controversial issues.  And all that on top of the skills required of any teacher – to manage behaviour, plan lessons and monitor progress for example.   

However, such is the level of crisis that all too often RE is being taught by non-specialists, simply because there are not enough trained RE teachers.  High school pupils are now three times more likely to be taught RE by someone with no qualification in the subject than, for example, in history.  Of those who teach RE in secondary schools over half spend most of their time teaching another subject (compared to only 13 per cent of those who teach English and 27 per cent of those who teach Geography). These same pressures contribute to many schools’ RE provision simply not being good enough. 

What can be done? 

The first step for the government to take is to acknowledge that there is a problem – with teacher recruitment across the board.  The teaching profession as a whole needs a boost – to show that teaching is an attractive career.  Significant workload reductions and pay increases will help this perception. 

But there is a specific problem with RE recruitment.  Postgraduate teacher training attracts a bursary to teach Geography of £25,000.  RE trainees receive no bursary.  I have heard of well qualified humanities or social science graduates who have chosen Geography over RE simply because of this.  In years when there has been a bursary available to train as an RE teacher, then recruitment has risen significantly.   

But what might really make a difference is a properly funded National Plan for RE to ensure it is properly resourced and taught by professionally trained teachers. 

 

For more information about becoming an RE teacher or supporting the campaign, visit: Teacher Recruitment - Culham St Gabriel's (cstg.org.uk) 

Article
Belief
Church and state
Comment
Politics
5 min read

Sorry, Danny Kruger, a Christian nation is a bad idea

Quite simply you cannot build a nation-state on the teaching of Jesus

Sam Tomlin is a Salvation Army officer, leading a local church in Liverpool where he lives with his wife and children.

An English flag flies on a church tower.
Different Resonance on Unsplash.

Danny Kruger has become one of my favourite politicians in recent months. His contributions in parliamentary debates on assisted suicide and abortion have endeared him to many Christians including myself as he has led the charge (along with other notable parliamentarians and thought leaders) against what has been dubbed the ‘parliament of death,’ exposing the shaky ethical foundations on which they lie. 

He entrenched this reputation with many Christians with a recent speech on the ‘Christian foundations’ of England (‘out of which the United Kingdom grew’) and a passionate plea to recover such foundations. This speech went viral in Christian circles as it articulated the aspirations of many to re-establish Christianity as a national force, specifically in the physical representation of power, the House of Commons. The speech ticked all of the ‘Christian nationalist’ boxes: Christianity should be the ‘common creed’ of the country; England was founded ‘uniquely among the nations’ on ‘the basis of the Bible’; it is the ‘oldest Christian country’; ‘the story of England is the story of Christianity operating on a people.’ A remarkable set of claims to make the butterflies flutter in any Christian’s stomach, surely? 

This vision of a ‘Christian nation,’ however, typically represented by Kruger is based on an understanding of Christianity which bears little resemblance to its central character: Jesus. There is much talk of ‘nationhood’ and ‘biblical values’ in such thinking, but tellingly little about Jesus himself (Kruger’s speech makes one passing reference to him). The reason is not complicated. Quite simply you cannot build a nation-state on the teaching of Jesus. 

Every nation-state (including England, the ‘prototype’ of such a concept, according to Kruger) was formed though violent subjugation of rival tribes and narratives, establishing a monopoly on the means of legitimate violence to centralise power for princes to wage war and protect private property. Jesus’ commands to love one’s enemies, pray for those who persecute you, not resist evildoers and give away possessions are not simply an inconvenience to such a programme, but are profoundly impractical. Like an embarrassing and awkward family member turning up uninvited to a wedding, they stand opposed to a ‘civilisational Christianity’ which seeks to be the ‘chaplain of nations’ as Kruger suggests, resisting any attempt at baptising and polishing a version of what remains Machiavellian statecraft. 

These two forms of Christianity are in fact little more than two sides of the same coin and there is a more fundamental distinction to be made. 

Like a cricketer putting on extra padding to face a fast bowler, Christian ethics softens the blow of such radical expectations by suggesting that Jesus can’t really have meant what he said, especially for modern, enlightened folk today. Perhaps Jesus expected the Kingdom of God to arrive more quickly than it did and as time progressed, we needed a more practical ethic. Not wanting to abandon Jesus, his teaching is reduced to general ‘values’ like ‘love’ or ‘justice,’ the content of which in fact become the precise opposite of what Jesus taught. ‘Jesus may have said to love enemies, but we will be less safe if we do, so we had better kill them.’ ‘Jesus may have said not to love money, but our economic systems which seem quite good at alleviating poverty rely on this, so greed isn’t so bad.’ 

It may sound as if I am opposing Kruger’s vison for the alternative option in the culture wars. It is often suggested that there are two ‘Christianities’ at work in the West: one represented by Kruger might be called the ‘Christian right,’ which emphasises family values, patriotism and the importance of place, the other (at which Kruger takes aim in his speech), a left-wing or ‘woke’ Christianity which stresses welcoming the stranger, economic justice and identity politics. 

This is a red herring, however. These two forms of Christianity are in fact little more than two sides of the same coin and there is a more fundamental distinction to be made. For while they might disagree on content, the method is remarkably similar. Left-leaning Christians may disagree with Kruger on his definition of a Christian nation but would uphold the desire for the nation-state to be founded on values they consider Christian. The common assumption is that Christianity is a ‘civilisational’ force, ideally enacted by Christians and their narrative taking hold of the levers of power and influence and dominating the ‘public square.’ 

If Jesus’ teaching is not supposed to be embodied by the nation-state, however, what is its purpose and does this not leave the public square to malevolent forces, as Kruger suggests? Jesus’ teaching is indeed directed at a particular body of people who are supposed to embody it publicly, and that is the community explicitly committed to follow and structure social life around the living presence of Jesus; this is the church. The New Testament even suggests the language of nationhood is appropriate for this body as a new nation is being formed around the person of Jesus who commands the allegiance that modern nation-states claim for themselves. 

Kruger’s vision of the Church of England’s parish system is where ‘we are all members, we all belong, even if you never set foot in your church from one year to the next, even if you don’t believe in its teachings, it is your church, and you are its member.’ This is a million miles away from the vision of the New Testament where entry into this newly formed community implies active repentance and a collision with the ways of the world represented by mere ‘values.’ If that makes me part of ‘another eccentric denomination’ according to Kruger, then so be it. 

To suggest that this alternative vision cedes the ‘public square’ to malevolent forces also betrays a lack of imagination around the public nature of the church. It is assumed that if Christians retreat from the ambition to explicitly and directly make our nation-state Christian then we relegate our religion to the realm of the ‘private’ and succumb to the worst elements of Enlightenment fears about religion in the public square. The earliest Christians had no explicit desire to ‘transform the Roman empire and make it Christian’ but simply took Jesus at his word on wealth, forgiveness, welcome of the stranger and proclamation of salvation and the life made possible by Jesus’ death and resurrection. This was their public witness and it just so happened that it utterly transformed the communities in which these followers of Jesus were situated at the same time. This vision certainly has a place for Christians engaging in politics as Kruger has in debates on assisted suicide for instance, exposing the shaky foundations of any form of life not founded on the life made possible in Jesus. This is most appropriately done, however, without reaching for language that implied the state has salvific qualities, language Christian teaching rightly reserves only for God himself. 

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